


Jasmine and Rose

by cosmic_llin



Series: Jasmine and Rose [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Post-Series, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2012-11-23
Packaged: 2017-11-19 08:39:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmic_llin/pseuds/cosmic_llin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarina Douglas and Seven of Nine meet at a conference and discover how much they have in common.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jasmine and Rose

**Author's Note:**

> Content Note: This story includes a scene of sexual harassment.

The lobby was crowded, and noisy. Sarina backed up against a wall for a moment to get out of the way and looked around. She was getting better at crowds and noise now, but this was something else. This was the first time she had been to a conference by herself, and she had already thrown up once on the shuttle over. Doctor Malley, the counselor at the research centre, always advised her to take a few deep breaths when she felt overwhelmed, so she did, hands flat on her stomach to help her concentrate on the flow of air through her lungs.  
  
A hand was thrust in front of her, and a booming voice said:  
  
'Sarina Douglas, isn't it?'  
  
She looked up, and tentatively shook the offered hand. 'Yes, that's me,' she said.  
  
'Doctor Mizan,' he said, smiling at her, still holding her hand in his. 'I've heard a lot about you, my dear.'  
  
'… oh,' said Sarina.  
  
He laughed loudly. 'All good, I promise!' he said. 'I hear that you're genetically modified, my dear, is that correct?'  
  
She nodded, managing to get her hand out from his grip.  
  
He grinned. 'I'd be _fascinated_ to know exactly what sort of... enhancements... you've had.'  
  
'I would be happy to discuss it with you at some point,' she said. 'Are you a geneticist yourself?'  
  
Asking questions and showing interest was polite, she knew. Some things she'd picked up easily. She still didn't have the hang of when people said one thing and meant another, though.  
  
He leaned over her, a hand on the wall behind her shoulder. She felt uncomfortable, but then social situations often had that effect on her. She hoped he would go away soon but she wasn't sure of the correct way to ask him to leave.  
  
'I'm not a geneticist, no,' he said. 'I just have an interest in all works of art, _biological_ ones included...'  
  
The way he looked at her made Sarina's cheeks hot. She gasped for air, struggled to form words – even now she sometimes for a moment forgot how to speak when she was startled or upset – but as she tried to force out a reply, a slim, pale hand reached out to grasp Doctor Mizan's wrist and lift it firmly away from Sarina and back down to his side.  
  
A woman was standing there – she was tall and wore her blond hair coiled neatly behind her head. She frowned at Doctor Mizan.  
  
'Your behaviour is inappropriate,' she said. 'Please discontinue it.'  
  
He coloured, and attempted a genial smile at the woman. 'Can't a fellow get to know another conference attendee?' he asked.  
  
'Perhaps he can, if he behaves in a respectful manner,' she said, evenly.  
  
He rolled his eyes at her.  
  
'Nice to meet you, Miss Douglas,' he said, and hurried away.  
  
The woman watched him go, and then turned back toward Sarina. 'I apologise if my intervention was unwelcome,' she said. 'You appeared uncomfortable, and Admiral Janeway always says that one should...' she paused, '”help first, and ask questions later.”'  
  
Sarina breathed slowly out. 'Thank you,' she said. 'I was uncomfortable, actually.' She peered at the woman. 'You're Seven of Nine, aren't you? I've seen your picture on the news.'  
  
'You are correct,' said Seven of Nine, extending her hand to shake. 'Please call me Seven.'  
  
'Sarina Douglas,' said Sarina. 'I was just on my way to the alternative technology seminar.'  
  
'I am also attending that seminar,' Seven said. 'Perhaps we could walk there together?'  
  
'I'd like that,' said Sarina, and they began to walk.  
  
The seminar was excellent, and she had been looking forward to it for a while, but she could barely keep her attention on it. Naturally enough, since she and Seven had entered together, they ended up sitting together. Sarina kept glancing sideways at her. Of course, she was famous, but that wasn't it – it was something about the way she had intervened so smoothly on Sarina's behalf, the way she hadn't been intimidated by Doctor Mizan.  
  
 _Don't be ridiculous_ , she said to herself – and she looked up to make sure she hadn't accidentally spoken aloud – _you're acting like a princess in a fairytale, getting all silly just because she rescued you._  
  
But she couldn't help watching Seven, and Seven certainly noticed. Fortunately she didn't seem to mind, and they walked to the next seminar together, too.  
  
* * *  
  
They queued at the replicator together, for the evening meal in the hotel's replimat. Sarina moved her lips silently, repeating her meal choice to herself – macaroni cheese and apple pie.  
  
'I'm sorry, were you speaking?' Seven asked.  
  
Sarina flushed. 'No, sorry,' she said. 'I was just... well, I find decisions difficult sometimes, so I like to make sure I'm prepared for them ahead of time.'  
  
Seven nodded. 'Choosing for myself was a very alien concept to me when I first left the Collective. It took me some time to master it.'  
  
Sarina reached the front of the queue and ordered her meal, then stepped aside so that Seven could get her own, and they walked together to a table.  
  
'I... I spent most of my life in an institution, and I wasn't ever in a position to make any choices, not about anything,' Sarina said, as they sat down. 'I've had practice now, but it still makes me anxious. How do you deal with it?'  
  
'Admiral Janeway encourages me to try a variety of different experiences and reflect on whether or not I enjoy them,' Seven said. 'That way I have a larger dataset on which to base my decisions. I find that, the more new things I try, the easier it is to predict my likes and dislikes.'  
  
'That seems sensible,' said Sarina. 'Perhaps I should try that.'  
  
'I have found exploring new foods to be particularly gratifying,' said Seven. 'I could give you some of my favourite replicator patterns to try.'  
  
'That would be nice,' said Sarina.  
  
They ate in silence for a few moments.  
  
'It must have been like the Collective, in some respects,' Seven said.  
  
'What must?'  
  
'Your institution,' Seven clarified. 'Having someone else make all of your decisions for you.'  
  
Sarina shrugged. 'It was unpleasant,' she said. 'Oh, they tried, they took excellent care of me, but I felt as though I was yelling as loud as I could, all the time, and nobody ever heard me. It felt like the real me was trapped inside this shell, being pushed and pulled wherever people thought I should go.'  
  
'I can understand that,' said Seven.  
  
Sarina shivered, and she thought Seven did too. She searched for something more light-hearted to say.  
  
'So... what's Admiral Janeway like?' she asked.  
  
Seven broke into a smile at that, a wide one. 'That is the second most popular question that I am asked,' she told Sarina. 'After “what is it like to be a Borg drone”.'  
  
'Oh, I'm sorry...' Sarina began.  
  
'Please, do not apologise,' said Seven. 'I understand that people are very interested in Voyager and her crew, and the captain... the admiral... is a particularly interesting individual. What do you wish to know?'  
  
And so they talked about Admiral Janeway, and Seven's time on Voyager, and then they talked about the seminars and lectures they had attended that day, and about the latest news, and Sarina told Seven about the Corgal Research Centre and Deep Space Nine, and Sarina described at length several books that she thought Seven might enjoy, and suddenly it was three in the morning and they were the only ones left in the replimat.  
  
* * *  
  
They spent the next three days together. Whatever else she wasn't good at, Sarina was good at understanding people – it came from years of watching and watching and having nothing to do _but_ watch. Seven was kind, and careful, and clever. And she didn't seem to mind Sarina hanging around her all the time – they met at breakfast, compared schedules, and then went to almost everything together, sharing dinner in the evening, and saying goodnight in the elevator.  
  
Usually Sarina found it difficult to be in social situations for more than an hour or two at a time, but with Seven it was different. Being with Seven made the rest of it easier somehow. Since leaving the Institute, Sarina had always felt like she was strange, like people didn't know what to make of her. But that didn't seem to matter now that there were two of them.  
  
Sarina had never really made a friend by herself before.  
  
  
* * *  
  
On the last afternoon of the conference, they had mutually agreed that there was nothing of interest left on the programme, and Sarina had gone to her room to start on her packing. But she dawdled over it, unable to concentrate, and after a while she gave up and went to fetch her sheet music.  
  
She was halfway through a tricky aria from a new opera by a young Bolian composer when the doorbell chimed. She paused the accompanying music and went to answer it.  
  
'You were singing,' said Seven. 'I'm sorry, you were occupied. I can return later.'  
  
'No, no!' Sarina shook her head. 'Come in, please, Seven. I'm not really busy. Singing just... helps to focus me. It calms me down when I'm overwhelmed. You should try it.'  
  
'In fact,' said Seven, 'I am quite an accomplished singer.'  
  
'Oh, really?' asked Sarina.  
  
Seven nodded with dignity.  
  
'In that case,' said Sarina, 'would you like to duet? I've been practising this piece with Doctor Finch back at the research centre, but we haven't had a chance to look at it together for a little while. It's in French...'  
  
'That should not present a problem,' said Seven. 'I would enjoy an opportunity to sing with someone else – it has been some time.'  
  
Sarina arranged the music on her stand. 'I usually sing Mallika's part,' she said. 'Would you like to be Lakmé?'  
  
'That is acceptable,' Seven said.  
  
They stood side by side, close together so that they could both see the music. Sarina tapped the tempo on the edge of the music stand and counted them in.  
  
Seven had a beautiful voice. It blended perfectly with Sarina's, and even the highest notes were smooth and effortless. Her French accent was excellent. She didn't miss a note. It made Sarina feel safe, knowing that she could rely on Seven to perform her part correctly, and it made her own performance all the better. Their voices soared and merged and moved apart and came together again, and it was the most wonderful thing Sarina had ever heard. She looked at Seven and smiled around the words she was singing, and Seven smiled back. They held the final note for longer than they should have.  
  
'The acoustics in these quarters are very favourable,' Seven said, but it sounded like she meant something else.  
  
Sarina's heart pounded.  
  
'Sarina,' said Seven, 'I believe I am becoming romantically attracted to you.'  
  
It happened at the worst times, this sudden inability to articulate – it frightened her because it reminded her of how things had been before, and because of how it made other people look at her. But she couldn't help it. She just stood there, open-mouthed, breathing hard, willing herself to say something, anything.  
  
Seven looked worried. 'Please...' she said, 'don't feel obligated to say anything. Or do anything. I expect no response from you. I simply... Admiral Janeway says that if you don't ask, you will never know.'  
  
She smiled gently, and Sarina somehow managed to smile too, and then she remembered that there were ways of communicating that didn't involve words, and she leaned towards Seven, and Seven leaned towards her, and their lips met.  
  
It was just like the singing – it was perfect, it was easy, she wasn't afraid. Seven's hand, smooth and metal-cool, brushed hers and they linked fingers as they kissed, slow and gentle, and when their mouths drew apart their fingers didn't.  
  
'Is this a signal that you reciprocate?' Seven asked, her voice low.  
  
'Yes, I think it is,' said Sarina.  
  
And she chose to kiss Seven again. **  
**


End file.
